Oracle of Delphi

by James Gurley

  “You’ve got to see this,” he said, his past bout of panic forgotten. He reached for Sira’s hand.

  Sira squeezed through the opening behind him, groaning as she did. Tad could see her eyes widen as she took in the majesty of their surroundings.

  “What is this place?” she asked as he helped her down the rubble heap. She spoke in whispered tones as if in a church.

  He recalled a passage from one of the books in the Great Library. “According to a book I read, it’s called the Catacombs.”

  Sira shivered. “You mean, like, old bones and corpses?”

  “I don’t think so,” Tad answered. “According to the text, it’s where many people hid from the Veil, a Sanctuary.”

  “Terrans?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He scanned the wall behind them. The opening through which they had gained access from the lower chambers of the Black Tower was an irregular hole in the wall with slabs of fallen rock littering the ground around it. Fresh air poured from the wound—the familiar smells of the Black Tower.

  “This looks fairly recent, a few years old maybe. It must have occurred during the last earthquake.”

  Sira looked uneasily at the ceiling. “I hope there is not another one while we’re down here.”

  Tad glanced at the ceiling. Once again, the thought of so much rock overhead made him uneasy, but this time he set such morbid thoughts aside. The prospect of exploring this wondrous new place was too exciting to pass up. “It’s unlikely,” he replied. He examined the wall and found the outlines of the sealed archway, more visible on this side of the wall. Stone steps led from it to the chamber floor. “This was sealed long ago. I wonder why?”

  “What is that?” Sira pointed to the nearby wall and an oblong box with a handle attached to it.

  Tad walked over to the box and inspected it. The writing across its face was unfamiliar. He grasped the handle firmly. It looked like metal and felt like metal in his hand but bore no traces of rust. Normal metal would almost certainly show signs of corrosion in such a damp environment after the passage of so many years. “Let’s see,” he said as he pulled the handle. Metal groaned and a low hum filled the cavern, originating somewhere farther down the cavern’s interior. Quick flashes of light, like lightning bugs, sprang from the distant darkness and raced toward them.

  “What have you done?” Sira asked, holding his arm so tightly that she constricted the flow of blood.

  The lights flashed more quickly, until, like a wild animal, it was upon them. Tad laughed as electric sconces set into the wall and floating below the ceiling flicked to life. Many were missing, but enough remained glowing to illuminate the walls and parts of the ceiling. Several of the floating lights had crashed to the floor and lay in dust-covered heaps.

  “It’s a room, not a cavern,” he said, “or perhaps it’s both, but look, I can see buildings.” He danced on his toes with excitement. “A roadway edges that pool of water in the center.” He dropped the torch and grabbed Sira’s hand. “Come on!”

  Sira was less eager to explore than Tad. She eyed the empty city dubiously. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

  Tad barely heard her. His incessant tugging forced her to follow, but not before she retrieved the battery torch he had dropped and slipped it into her pocket. The seaward end of the cavern still lay in darkness, untouched by the electric lights, so they headed landward. Native stone gave way to a paved brick roadway, thick with dust. Stone buildings, some several stories tall, lined the road, a city in miniature. The buildings’ stone surfaces were pale and smooth plastered with a concrete-like substance. An occasional chunk of fallen masonry revealed a rusting steel skeleton within. He peeked into the open doorway of one building, but nothing recognizable remained inside. It was just a jumble of dusty piles. Someone had removed most of the buildings’ contents sometime in the past.

  “People once lived here,” he said, “Our ancestors. How did they endure the confines of this place—no sun, no moon, and no clouds?”

  “Someone’s ancestors,” Sira reminded him as she swept her eyes over the city. “They endured because they had no alternative. The land above was ripe with the Veil, remember.”

  Tad shuddered to think of huddling in the cavern with the Veil above, seeking crevices and channels through which to enter. Could the people feel the twisted spatial distortions through the stone? Did the stone groan with the agony? The city ran for a kilometer or more along the length of the cavern, spreading out to a width of ten city blocks. Opposite the rectangular pool of water, on the far side of the cavern, lay its twin, a second city. The winged backs of twin gryphons protruded from the water supporting the center arch of a broken bridge. A dozen half-submerged stone wharfs indicated water traffic between the two cities.

  “The water level has risen by several meters since the city was built,” Tad pointed out.

  Sira clasped Tad’s hand more tightly. “Is there any danger?”

  Tad returned her squeeze. “No. The sea has found a way in over time. It’s a wonder the city has survived so long. I wish I knew who lived here. These buildings resemble those oldest ones in the city above. Some believe the Terran Sanctuary, Dureth, lies in the mountains near my home. Could Terrans have lived here also?”

  “Many cultures adopted Terran architecture,” she reminded him. “It was easier and cheaper to build.” She released his hand and pointed to a structure with graceful curves. “This one looks like those built by the Shura. Perhaps all the races contributed.”

  “Not according to Valcor, the rebel leader.”

  They reached the end of the city. It ended as sharply as a knife cut, bordered by a field of open ground. A few skeletal plants, the remains of a park or forest, protruded from the soil. Tad wondered how the plants had survived so deep beneath the surface without sunlight. The electric lights didn’t seem powerful enough. A large circular structure with arched buttresses and a domed roof emerged from the shadows, rising until it almost scraped the ceiling of the chamber. In the full light of the cavern, it must have been a spectacular sight. Now, in the subdued lighting of the few remaining functioning lights, it looked more sepulcher, an ancient tomb filled with ghosts. He felt a sudden reluctance to enter.

  “Come on.” Sira was now more excited than him. Her earlier reluctance had disappeared at the sight of the mysterious round building. She tugged at his sleeve and led the way.

  The massive, intricately carved wooden door was stuck in place, warped by time and moisture. By bracing himself and shoving with all his might, Tad managed to open it just wide enough to allow them to slip through the narrow opening. Light, filtered through dirty glass windows set high in the base of the circular domed roof, mottled the massive tiled floor, creating ominous pools of deep shadows along the walls and behind giant pillars standing in a circle in the center of the building supporting the dome. Within the tight circle of pillars, half obscured by the shadows, an oblong stone platform raised two steps above the floor. Centered on the catafalque rested a massive stone sarcophagus. They approached warily with a battery torch retrieved from Sira’s pocket held high to illuminate the shadow-filled room.

  “It is a tomb,” Tad exclaimed, suddenly chilled by his initial observation of the dome.

  The indistinct features of a man’s face leaped out at them in the beam. Sira startled when she saw it, but crept closer. It was a man of stone, lying in repose adorning the top of the tomb. They could not tell if the man was Terran, Plin or Saddir. Time had eroded the features beyond recognition. A metal plaque, though, unaffected by both time and elements, bore a single name. The script was strange, but Tad had seen the name before. As he read the name aloud, goose bumps crawled along his spine.

  “Saracen, King of Delphi,” he whispered. He looked at Sira in awe. “It’s a crypt, Saracen’s Tomb.”

  “But he ruled after the Veil,” Sira reminded him. “If this is a pre-Veil Sanctuary …”

  “They must have built his tomb down here in the Sanc
tuary to protect it or to honor him.”

  “Or to hide it,” Sira added. “Why the need to protect it?”

  “There were many conflicts is those early days. Perhaps there were those who wished to erase his memory.” He rubbed his hand across the dusty crypt, trying to imagine the number of hands that had done likewise centuries ago. “They have nearly done so. None remember this place and few know who Saracen really was.”

  Sira carefully examined the carving, wiping away dust with her sleeve. “He was obviously Terran or Plin or possibly even Saddir, but if so, he does not have the usual Saddir bound hair. It’s too eroded for finer details. He’s much too tall for a Haffa and his arms are about the length of ours. They will be disappointed.”

  Tad remembered the Haffa pilgrims and their long, dusty march to Delphi and agreed. He sniffed the air. A new odor encroached on the already musty smells. It was a bitter, acrid odor. Playing the torch about, he saw piles of what looked like dirt along one wall. As he walked closer, the ammonia odor overwhelmed him.

  “Bat guano. Tons of it,” he said through pinched nose. He looked at Sira. Her face, a frozen mask of terror and wonder, craned upward.

  “No, not bat guano,” she whispered. “How did they get down here?”

  Tad followed her gaze upward. Near the top of the dome, a wide stone ledge ran around the circumference of the building. Perched upon it were scores of Triocs, staring down at them with large, unblinking eyes. The memory of the Trioc triad attempting to kill the king burst into his mind. He shuddered, but not from the cold.

  “Through some opening only they know,” he mused. “Let’s back out of here slowly.”

  Sira looked at him. “Do you think they’re dangerous?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know, but I prefer to take no chances down here so far away from help.”

  As they turned to leave, one female Trioc swooped down and circled just above their heads before returning to her perch. The creatures communicated in their own manner for a moment and then went silent. Their heads turned as one to follow Tad and Sira out of the building, but they did not stir from their perch.

  Outside, Tad relaxed. He glanced at Sira and half-smiled. “That was creepy.”

  “There seems to be much we don’t know about the Triocs,” she replied. “Who were their masters and where did they come from?”

  He was curious about them but more eager to be away from them. “Come on.”

  By mutual unspoken consent, the pair walked back toward the hole in the wall through which they had entered. Along the way, Tad inspected several more buildings. Most, like the first, appeared abandoned long ago. However, one surprised him. It sat on the banks of the saltwater pool and, unlike the others, its doors and windows remained intact.

  “This is odd,” he commented to Sira. He stepped up and tried the door. It was unlocked. Entering carefully, he scanned the room and found not dust and disarray as he expected, but a clean, neat room with two chairs, a sofa, a fireplace with wood stacked beside it and oil lanterns, as if the house’s occupants were unaware of the electric lights. Or did not wish to betray their presence by using them, he thought. A second room proved to be a bedroom with two beds and an empty closet. A kitchen and bath with running water completed the house. He tasted the water.

  “It’s fresh,” he said in surprise. He looked out the window and noticed faint footprints in the dust that led to the water’s edge. “Someone is living here, or lived here until recently.”

  The presence of the Triocs had aroused Sira’s curiosity, a problem to solve, but the presence of people disturbed her. “Who? Why would they be here? Criminals?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Possibly someone with access to old books, but not criminals.” He thought a moment. “Or someone who accidentally stumbled upon it as we did. There must be another entrance somewhere, perhaps more than one.”

  “Let’s leave,” Sira suggested suddenly.

  He glanced at Sira and saw fear written on her face. Whoever lived here might resort to violence to keep their secret, he mused. Some of Sira’s apprehension rubbed off on him “Okay,” he answered.

  As they were leaving, he noticed a faint glow near what he assumed was the ocean end of the cavern. The desire for further investigation and his fear of discovery battled within him. It will wait for another time, he decided. However, Sira had seen the light also.

  “Look,” she said pointing. She turned to him and frowned. “Should we check it out?”

  He marveled that even when frightened, her natural curiosity still compelled her to explore. He was eager to examine the strange light, but did not want to force her to go. “You decide.”

  She gritted her teeth together and frowned. “It could be important.”

  They continued past the edge of the city into an area that might have held materials for constructing the city —Piles of loose stone and sand, rusted metal beams, and enigmatic machinery so corroded its purpose was unfathomable. A delicate curtain of pink and white halite crystals shrouded the wall beneath the sea, glistening with moisture. The faint light became a narrow ribbon within the halite curtain. Tad tapped on the wall and a shower of rock salt cascaded onto them. He bent Sira over and crouched over her to protect her, berating his stupidity. He could have dislodged rocks large enough to crush them. When the shower had subsided, the ribbon of light was brighter. The sheet of halite covering it lay in a pile of delicate curls on the floor.

  “It looks like the edge of a door,” Sira suggested.

  It was a door. Over the centuries, moisture had relentlessly infiltrated the seal, depositing salt crystals until they had eventually warped the edge. A panel beside the door still glowed faintly. Before Sira could stop him, Tad pressed it.

  Gears ground and the door shuddered, sending another shower of salt over them. Just as he was beginning to think the door warped beyond any movement, it began to open, receding into the wall before sliding aside. A bright light shone over them, blinding them. Tad held his hand over his eyes and peeked through his spread fingers.

  “It’s a room,” he said.

  Once inside, the light slowly dimmed until it was no longer blinding.

  It was more than a room; it was a warehouse. Shelves, mostly empty, lined the walls and stood in long rows. A few bore remnants of their former inventory.

  “These shelves must have contained food and supplies for the thousands of people in the Sanctuary,” he said in awe. “They would need enough for years.”

  Near the rear of the enormous room, recessed cabinets with glass doors lined the wall. Most were empty. A few contained sealed glass tubes and vials such as those he had seen in the Watchers’ Tower chemistry classrooms. He picked one up and examined the contents, the mummified remains of a tiny winged fowl. “It looks like an Earth chicken,” he said. “I’ve seen them in books.” The others contained other animals and plants. Some contained only a thick sludge. He opened one and pointed it away from his nose as the odor of decay struck his nostrils. His heart began to race with realization.

  “It was an Ark. These were refrigerated storage cabinets, freezers to store living animals and plants. That’s how so many plant and animal species managed to survive the Fall.” He smiled. “Our ancestors planned well.”

  “Not well enough,” Sira pointed out. “There are no chickens on Charybdis.” She pointed to another small creature with a long tail, long pointed nose and whiskers. “Or those.”

  Tad frowned. “Yes, something must have happened.” The thought of what other creatures, Terran or alien, might have inhabited the freezers raised goose bumps on his arms. He shrugged off the thought. “There’s nothing here now. These creatures died when the freezers shut off.”

  “Or they were shut off.”

  He looked at Sira. “What do you mean?”

  “If they could freeze animals and animal embryos, maybe they could freeze human embryos, too. Maybe it was a deliberate act of control, a way to reduce the population.”
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  “But if they were frozen, there was no need to control the population. They used no resources other than electricity.”

  “Perhaps they were looking to the future, to who would dominate the planet afterwards.”

  The idea of deliberately destroying embryos, especially human embryos, sickened him. “No one is that barbaric,” he said. Sira did not answer. “I’ve seen enough.”

  The door had jammed in its recess, but there was no longer anything for it to protect. Tad left it as it was, but he did find the control for the light and switched it off, plunging the cavern into darkness. In somber silence, deep in thought, they walked back to the hole through which they had entered, and crossed into the chamber beyond.

  “What shall we tell the others?” Sira asked.

  Tad considered the options. Once knowledge of the cavern reached the Regents, it would be out of his hands. They could forbid his return and order knowledge of the cavern restricted. The implications of the tomb of Saracen and the Ark were even more staggering. Such knowledge could cause riots. No, that much they could not reveal. The cavern needed exploring, but by someone more circumspect in their research. The Plin?

  “We tell no one for now. I’ll contact Simios. I think he can be trusted to examine the cavern without prejudice.”

  Sira looked unconvinced by his suggestion. “You’re certain? Why not the University?”

  Tad had to admit to himself that even the Plin kept certain secrets. “No, but I know no one else I would trust. Not the University, I think. They could never keep secrets.”

  The ghostly paintings of the lower chamber gazed out over the centuries at them. Tad felt like he was under observation, but had no desire to turn off the light for the pleasure of privacy. The gloom of the cavern had penetrated to his bones and the weight of stone about him again pressed down upon him, as did his newfound knowledge. He was eager to return to the surface, to gaze upon the triple suns once more. He dragged the heavy crate back against the wall and propped it against the opening. It would not keep out a determined Trioc or conceal the opening from a thorough search, but he hoped it might deter the casual observer.